


A Bitter Parting

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Arguments, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros confronts Fingon, just before the house of Fëanor is to leave for exile in Formenos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bitter Parting

Findekáno let out a snarl of frustration as he looked down into the outer courtyard of the house, seeing a flash of red hair amid the trees that flanked the gate, hastily covered by a hood. A grey figure standing with its shoulders squared as though in determination, staring up at the house. 

Findekáno watched him for a time, anger slowly building up inside him all the while.  _Make him wait._ Finally, quietly cursing both himself and Maitimo, Findekáno left the window. He forced himself to take slow, measured steps down the back stair of the house, before slipping out of a side door.

Maitimo merely watched him as he approached the gate, an unreadable expression on his face. Findekáno stood before him for a long moment before he spoke, arms folded, holding Maitimo’s gaze. There was worry in that slight frown and familiar silver gaze, and pain, and anger, and Findekáno hated how Maitimo’s eyes tugged like a metal hook in his chest, tearing mercilessly into his heart even now.

He forced himself to speak, the words brittle and abrupt. “What do you want?”

Maitimo opened his mouth. “I… I just wanted to talk. To see you before…”

Fingon pursed his lips, saying nothing.

“I have to go soon” said Maitimo, haltingly. “We leave for Formenos this afternoon.”

Findekáno let out a bark of laughter that hurt his throat. “Of course. Does your father know you’re here?”

Maitimo’s voice was stiff. “Obviously not.”

“You should be careful. You wouldn’t want him to catch you conniving with his enemies.”

“Fin, you’re not - ”

“Oh, but I am” said Findekáno. “That’s the thing. Everyone knows Fëanáro’s suspicions about my father plotting against him are ridiculous. I know. You know. But you took his side anyway.”

Maitimo’s face twisted in anger. “Does this look like I am taking his side?” He gestured at himself, his hood and cloak to hide his bright hair, the house and Findekáno himself. “I had to see you, I had to - ”

“Don’t try to make excuses. You think that coming to wish me  _goodbye_ before you left would make me forgive you? You think I will sit and while away the time, and wait for my lost lover to return, sighing over you as you sit in the mountains with your unhinged father? All he cares about is power and those damned jewels.” He felt almost fevered, reckless.  _He had already lost the Maitimo he had known, after all. What more could this stranger who stood where his beloved had once been do to him?_  “He didn’t even care when your mother left, and he certainly doesn’t care about  _you_. He held a  _sword_ to my father’s throat! And then you  _took his side_. It’s pathetic.” The words gushed from his mouth, barbed and poisonous, and Findekáno knew that he would regret them later. But now they just kept coming. He laughed again, his voice rising. “If you had any self-respect at all you would actually think this over, maybe try to see it from the point of view of the one you once claimed to  _love_.” He forced his voice to remain flat. “Or at least you would not just blindly follow him. He’s a  _danger_ , Maitimo, he’s not a visionary or a genius. He’s not - ”

“What do you  _want_  from me, Findekáno?” snapped Maitimo, interrupted him. “Are you actually claiming that you’re saying all this because you care about me? Do you want me to stay here, renounce my family, turn against my father?” He narrowed his eyes. “I loved him before you were even  _born_ , Findekáno. I will not just throw him over for you, especially when you insist on behaving like  _this_. I cannot. Even Haru thought the Valar’s punishment unfair, he  _chose_  to give up his crown and go into exile with us out of solidarity with Atar.” Maitimo’s face twisted into a sneer. “If you are calling  _him_  misguided, and my father mad, then… well, I have nothing more to say to you. Besides, you’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you?” Maitimo’s voice was mocking. “Your little fantasy of your  _wise_ father on Haru’s throne will come true for a while, at least.”

“You think this is about the throne? Haru chose Fëanáro, over Atar. It matters not a bit that Atar is regent, it doesn’t lessen the fact that it’s a slap in the face to my whole family.”

“And what do you want me to do about that? Do you think I’m  _glad_  it came to this?” Maitimo sighed, and then softened a little, looking regretful. He raised a hand towards Findekáno, a gesture of peace, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm. Somehow it only enraged Findekáno further. Maitimo cleared his throat. “I know why you’re angry. I do still love you, you know. We at least could have parted on good terms, even if our fathers - ”

“You think you can just…” Findekáno interrupted. He recoiled from the touch, furious. “You know what,  _Nelyafinwë_ , I’m not even surprised. That’s the very worst of it.”

Findekáno had been expecting Maitimo to wince at the use of his father name, had wanted it even, but Maitimo’s fair face remained as unyielding as carven stone. “Yes” he said evenly. “Yes, I am going with my father, by choice. I’m glad you can acknowledge that” his voice grew cold. “I was wary of coming here today, you know. I worried that you’d make a _scene_.”

“ _Make a…_ ” Findekáno was suddenly furious once again, so outraged that he could barely speak. “How… how  _dare_  you.  _‘Make a scene?’_  How can you even stand there and say that, after what your father did…?”

“I am not my father” said Maitimo quietly. “And you are not yours, Fin. But very well, if this is how you want it to be. I suppose I will see you in twelve years.”

He started to turn and walk away, neck held stiffly, hands balled into fists, but as Maitimo turned his back, pain twisted in Findekáno’s chest once more, forcing him into action almost against his will.

“Maitimo! Wait!” He found himself seizing a handful of Maitimo’s cloak, turning him roughly by the arm so that they were facing each other once more. For a brief moment Maitimo’s eyes were full of surprise as they met Findekáno’s, and a startling vulnerability, before his face hardened again.

“You don’t have to do this” Findekáno choked out. “You still have a choice.”

Maitimo sighed deeply, his face crumpling. “No I don’t.”

Quite without warning, Findekáno felt his own rage blunted, tempered by a deep sense of sorrow and loss. He had never been much good at staying angry with Maitimo, although Eru only knew he had had plenty of reason to, with their tearing, wounding arguments that had only grown more frequent lately. It would only prove a weakness, he knew. He sighed, letting his fingers uncurl from the tight fist they had made in the thick grey wool of Maitimo’s cloak.

“Don’t look so regretful” said Maitimo, his voice still suffused with bitterness. “I got the impression you didn’t want to lay eyes on me ever again?”

Findekáno rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Well at least I can always rely on you to remind me  _why_  I might have wanted that, whenever I seem like to forget” he snapped. “It’s just…” he shook his head. “What a fool I was. I talked myself into believing that, because I  _loved_  you, because you loved me back, that… well, that that would be enough.”

Maitimo raised his hand once more into the space between them, just a little, seemingly without realising what he was doing. Findekáno seized his fingers and pushed his hand away.

“Findekáno…”

There was so much sorrow in Maitimo’s voice that Findekáno longed to pull him into his arms, to kiss him tenderly, to lose himself in the pleasure they shared. He wanted to have it all turn out to be a bad dream, to wake up next to Maitimo, the warm weight of his arm about Findekáno’s waist, the sound of Maitimo’s breathing as he slept. He wanted to remember Maitimo that way; it shouldn’t be like this.  _But no, it had not been that way for a long time, and how could it ever be the same again when so much had gone wrong?_  Findekáno extended a hand to lean against the gate arch, steadying himself. “You’ll be going then” he said.

“Yes” said Maitimo simply.

Findekáno tugged on a braid of his hair, biting his lip, feeling the stone at his back and Maitimo’s eyes on him, burning through him. He looked up, meeting that silver gaze again. Maitimo’s forehead was crumpled, his hands splayed out at his sides as though at a loss, graceless for once.

Something locked into place in Findekáno’s heart, and before he knew what he was doing he was grasping a two handfuls of the front of Maitimo’s cloak, pulling him forward into a rough, urgent kiss, caring not if anyone could see them from the house. Maitimo pressed forward against Findekáno, one hand flat against the stones, the other twisting in Findekáno’s hair, tilting his head backwards. They broke apart, both breathing hard; Maitimo’s face was stormy. His hood had half fallen back, his bright hair spilling out in waves.

“Leave” said Findekáno, through gritted teeth. “Please, Maitimo. Please just go, now.” He cursed the touch of vulnerability in his voice.

“Yes” said Maitimo. “Yes, I think that would be best. Goodbye, Fin.”

Before Findekáno could reply, Maitimo had turned on his heel and was striding purposefully away, his head held high.

Findekáno breathed out. He did not try to follow.


End file.
